In This World
by Schizo42
Summary: Temari and her brothers get thrown into the underworld of sociaty when their father deals cards with the wrong people. M for adult situations/graphic at time/language. ShikaTem. First chapter won't make much sense, but it'll come together. I promise.
1. Prologue: That Morning

**Author's Note: This is my first fic, but that doesn't mean go easy on me. How can we learn from our mistakes if nobody ever points them out? (put a smiley face at the beginning of your review if you're reading this.)Anyway, this story is a little outside the box. I won't take anymore of your time. It won't make sense at first, but I promise it'll eventually come together.**

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**Prologue: That Morning**

The sun was just coming up. A young man was lying in the middle of a small cell fast asleep. His head was shaved clean and he was stripped of the privilege for a shirt or shoes or even socks at that. All he had on was his pants. He was, however, granted a thin blanket to keep "warm". It was miserably cold. His left hand was heavily bandaged. It was wrapped around his wrist and around his pinky. He had curled up into a ball as a result of the night before.

_-Flashback-_

_They were in a small room with a light in the middle; the cliché hanging interrogation room light. It was hard to see anything else in the room. The young man sat there quietly, refusing to give in to the request of this man. _

"_Every month you fail you speak with us; we will cut off a digit of one of your fingers starting with the pinky" _

_His thugs surrounded the young man. One pinned his left arm and twisted it to make sure the young man could not escape. Another held the other arm out on the table, exposing his fingers to the light. _

_Struggling, the young man said, "What are you doing?"_

"_Ah, yes. To make sure you behave and know we mean business, we'll give you a 'faith' payment here." He pulled a curved knife out of its sheath. The blunt side was studded with diamonds. He grabbed the young man's hand. The young man decided against struggling. That would only make it worse. And with that, the older male swiftly removed the first digit of his pinky finger. It felt as if right side if his hand was burning. His scream could be heard throughout the compound. _

_The scream was short lived. His hand finally went numb and another man was already bandaging the pinky. They could let him bleed to death. When his hand was finally bandaged, the same two thugs dragged the young man to his cell. The young man decided to make it hard on them and refused to walk. This was not a civilized place. So he had no obligation to be polite. _

_-End flashback-_

And here he was; his four gray walls of paradise; a paradise that represented a place of peace and quiet. No torture here. Just a cold wet floor, a door, and a small window. The window would be nice if it wasn't cold and if the clouds weren't so bunched up all the time making it dark and miserable.

The young man turned in his sleep and woke with a jolt. He looked around for a minute trying to remember where he was. After a moments thought, it hit him. He, in fact, didn't know where he was. All he knew was that it was cold. Probably somewhere north of where he was before, or he was high in the mountains. He could hear the screams of the poor souls unfortunate enough to even be here. No one person should have to be tortured for any reason. No matter what there sins.

He moved to stand up using his right hand as a support when he winced in pain. He fell back to the floor and decided to investigate his sudden discomfort. When he looked at his hand, he remembered what had happened. His pinky's top digit had been cut off by that bastard. The same bastard that had made his life a living hell, killed people close to him, and was now messing with his head. _Shit. Where the fuck am I? _

He got up using his left hand this time as a support. He stood up to his full length and stretched. His back cracked several times. He looked up to the window. _It's not so high. _He jumped up to the window and used his arm strength to pull himself up. He made a note to use his left hand for more support due to his new handicap. His frown grew deeper as he saw what was beyond the window; blankets of white, powdery snow with no end in sight to it. Escape was impossible. The young man dropped back down and slowly backed into a corner. There he slid down the hard, cold concrete walls until he was on the floor. Again. _There's a good chance I'm going to die here…..Shit. I hope I'm wrong. _

He thought a long while about the possibilities of the situation. How he got there, where he goes from there, what happened to the others. He had to assume that they had gotten away since they obviously weren't here. Then again, he didn't know where here is nor whether they could have split all of them up if captured.

There was also the problem of the snow. Either the building was built slightly underground, or the snow was really, really deep. There was no knowing from his vantage point. All he could do was wait for rescue or death. For one, there was little hope. For the other, it was a highly likely possibility. If it came down to it, he could commit suicide if it became too much.

There was a slight clang and a food platter was slipped in through a small slit in the door; moldy bread and a rotten boiled egg…..delicious. (That's meant to be sarcastic for those not used to sarcasm)

"Can I have some…water?" What looked like dirty water was slipped in with the food. "Thanks, but no thanks," he muttered more to himself.

He slid himself over to the food propping his back against the wall and simply stared at it for a while. _Life is a bitch. _It was obviously old, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was in the garbage at one point. All in all, it didn't matter. He had to eat somehow. He held his nose with what he had of his right hand and grabbed the egg with his left. He put it in his mouth and immediately swallowed before he could taste anything. It worked in theory, but to no avail here. The egg left a horrible taste in his mouth. Quickly he grabbed the bottled water and chugged half the bottle down.

He took a look at the bread considering whether he should eat it or not. He decided against it and took another drink out of the bottle. Then, he looked out the window at the gray. _From now on, I'm not even going to bother with the food,_ he thought. Soon his eyes began to grow heavy. Slowly, the young male slid down the wall until he was completely out.

The guard opened the door a slid in. "Pathetic…. I would starve, rather than eat that." From there, he began to drag the young man out of the room.

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**Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed it. I know, it's off to a slow start, but it'll start making sense. (I'll stop saying that)(put a smiley face at the end of your review if you're reading this) This concludes my first chapter. Woot. I'm not going to continue until I get at least 5 reviews and no promises on a second chapter even after that. School is a top priority and my grades weren't at there best this previous report card, so I may be gone for long periods of time. Sorry. **


	2. Unintentional Jailbreak

**Author's note: I know it's been a long time, but summer is nearing and I find myself with more than enough time on my hands to get back into this story. I want to apoligize for my long absense. I also felt guilty holding out on the few readers I did get. I relize that I was naive to ask for a certain amount of reviews for my first fanfic, so I'll lay off of that. Thanks to those that did review. I wouldn't have revisited this if not for you three. Just a quick warning, this chapter won't have much dialogue. It's more to further set the scene. I do promise, however, that it'll come together eventually and flow better. So, without further udo. Chapter 2.**

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**Nara Shikamaru: Unintentional Jailbreak**

Justice. What is justice when an innocent teenager is sent to prison? I could've easily survived through juvee. Home of the mislead and forgotten children of the world left to ponder what to do next in their pathetic and unlucky lives. They know nothing better than what they see around them; the sad and impoverished looking for money to buy crack because it's the only light in a world full of prosperous walking to work with their briefcases and Starbuck's coffee seeming to not give a damn about anything but their money. The kids wouldn't be able to do anything and are mostly harmless to a guy like me. But, being as intelligent as I am and considering the charges, they decided that juvee was too juvenile for me so to speak. So, there I was a 14 year old "man" in prison waiting out a life sentence, thrown into a mix of murderers, gang members, and rapists who knew exactly what they were doing when they did it.

Oddly enough, prison life wasn't very hard. Rumors flew around in the air like spaghetti in a food fight about what I had done. Of course, I didn't do it, but I wasn't keen to bring anymore attention to myself. So, I let the rumors spread; a plague to keep people silent and away from me. For the most part, people would avoid me. It was oddly uneventful (excluding daily fights) and boring. My life in prison consisted of wake up, wash up, eat, shit, do nothing for hours, eat again, participate in the elementary school equivalent of recess with weight lifting as the thing everyone wanted to do, rest, maybe do a chore or two, eat, shit again, wash up, and back to sleep.

All of the inmates sported orange coveralls and the guards brown uniforms. Nothing was any different from anything else. The only thing that nobody had in common was the circumstance in which they got there. And while many of them were labeled with the same titles, it was never the same crime.

Normally, I would've entertained myself for hours at a time with nothing but staring up at clouds. Unfortunately, I was in the middle of a damned dessert; a hot, sunny hellhole in the day and freezing cold hell at night. It wasn't all bad, though; the only time I could look at anything other than bright blue in the sky was at night. The stars were brilliant at night. Not a cloud or speck of smog to block the view. At night, I would stare out of my barred window until sleep overtook me… if it did for the night.

Even though mostly everything sucked there, I was fairly content. I was over the injustices that had gotten me there. The files already charged, the evidence already planted, the confession already made, the jury already decided, the sentence already being waited out, and I was already settled in by then. Three years gave me plenty of time to think things over, and while I definitely didn't seem to come out on top, I still had the fact that I was innocent to help me through.

I only ever told one person the truth about my crime; my cellmate. He was a quiet man. I'm not even sure what his name was. We never really told each other. I never heard anybody call him anything or even recall anyone socializing with him. Hell, I may have even thought I made him up if the circumstances were any different. Back to my original point, I'm not sure what brought up the conversation. Maybe I just needed to say it out loud. None of it ever seemed real. I almost felt like I was in a coma; like it was all an elaborate and boring dream. Maybe I was in a coma. Maybe I wasn't truly awake until that fateful day. Maybe I was still not even awake then. Maybe I was only half-awake from my mental coma.

One day, the guards moved him into solitary confinement. They said he was "mentally unstable". I don't know if it was true or not. Now that I think of it, prison was the most uncertain yet planned time of my life. The days were uniform, but I never truly knew what the fuck was going on. My last day there proved it.

I didn't see my former cell mate until the day I left the place; the day I semi-escaped. It was just like any other day. The guards were about to lock up when a riot broke out a block over. It spread like wildfire across the blocks. Riots began to break out all over. The guards didn't even have the time to lock everyone in. Although it was still unlocked, I was content to stay in my cell. All I had waiting outside of it was fists, pepper spray, and billyclubs. I decided to pass on the occasion. But then I saw him, sneaking from shadow to shadow. I called out to him "Hey," but he only responded by looking at me with desperate eyes; eyes that were yelling out, "I don't know about you, but I'm getting the hell out of here." Without a word, he ran off.

I didn't know what to make of it. I froze there wondering what I should do. But, before I truly calculated and weighed out my options, some invisible force caused me to get up from my bed and start following him. I ran; following him the best I could. I decided to keep my distance for the sake of avoiding unwanted attention. Cell after cell after cell, I followed him up to the guards entrance. He stopped behind a pushed over table; waiting. He knew as well as I did that only authorized personnel could go in and out of that door.

After what almost seemed like an eternity of waiting, the door finally opened. With quick precision, my former cellmate ran at him, knocked him out with a solid punch to the gut, and caught the door. Being a prisoner, I wasn't exactly surprised with that outcome, but I was surprised when he looked over at me as if he knew I was following him the entire time. He grabbed the guard's billyclub and propped it in the door, and, in an instant, he was gone.

I didn't hesitate after that. I looked around to make sure nobody had taken notice of me, and I sprinted for the door. I grabbed the billyclub from the door and allowed myself through the door in one swift movement. I didn't want anyone else to follow. It would bring too much attention to the fact that prisoners had gotten loose in the fray.

I jogged quietly down the halls not knowing where I was going. I finally caught up with my former cellmate. He was turning a corner when I heard a loud crack in the air. For an instant, I froze and time seemed to slow. I watched him as he fell down to the ground. I didn't even hear him hit the ground with the loud crack still fresh in my ears.

I stood there, staring. My mind wasn't working. I wanted to get away, but I couldn't move. Going back wasn't an option. Going forward was not much of an option either. Staying there was no good, as well. More importantly, where was the person that shot him? I eventually worked up enough courage to slowly walk towards him. Walking up to him, I began to see a puddle of red expand out around him while a deep red penetrated his orange coveralls on the chest. His eyes were rolled back into his head while his face wore an expression of shock. He was dead before he had the chance to realize he had been shot.

That could've been me. Had I been the one to get here first, I could've been killed. I barely knew him, but I felt as if I had lost a close friend of mine. His death left a hole in my chest that I doubt could ever be filled. Forgetting about the shot I walked up to him and kneeled down beside his body. I tried to close his eyes, but it just doesn't work as well as in the movies. Every time I would try to close them, they'd open back up in stubbornness.

Looking away from his body, I observed a man not much older than myself stood there pistol in hand shaking. He was petrified with what had just happened. He was pointing his gun at me like I was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen. I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender. I didn't want to die, but I didn't feel like I cared anymore either. I was too far gone and yet too close to freedom to give up now. I stood there for a bit looking at him. He was still shaking like mad. It was so bad I don't think that he could've pulled the trigger if he tried. I could see his face beginning to break out into a sweat borderline on crying. He never said a word. He just stood there shaking and without warning, he ran off. I was, for the third time that day, dumbstruck.

Resorting to his plan, I ran the other way. I had no idea where I was going. All I knew was that I had to get out. It was just a maze of uncertainty. One way could be a dead end, yet the right way could be an overture to my death. And by the grace of God, I made my way out. I ran and ran and ran. The cold desert air enveloped my body until I couldn't take it anymore. I fell over face-first into the rough sand. I took in gulped down breaths of air feeling as if I couldn't get enough.

Eventually, I sat up to look back into the distance. The building stood tall and enforcing even in the dark night. Fires were isolated around the building from the riots. It seemed almost serene until, BOOM! The entire building began to explode. Explosions erupted all over the building like fireworks during a celebration. I watched in horror. I had escaped death; fiery death.

Questions began to fill my mind. Who did this? Was it an accident? Was this planned? Was it an inmate or something bigger? Was simply a result of the riot? Where were all of the guards? I only saw a few. Was there always so few of them? What should I do?... What should I do?

I never figured out the answer to that. I couldn't think of much else, so I ran some more. I don't know how long I ran. I just know that I wanted to get as far away as possible. I kept running until I was too exhausted and just fell over in defeat. Lying there shaking with adrenaline and fear I starred up at the sky mocking the chaos my life had become with its sereneness. Eventually, I allowed my exhaustion to overcome my body and I drifted away into a deep sleep. At this moment, everything seized to be. I was not in a dessert. I was not an inmate escapee. I had not witnessed death. The building did not blow up. I did not exist. I was not Nara Shikamaru.

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**Love it? Hate it? Notice any gramatical problems? Let me know. I'm not very consistant with updates (as you may have notice), but I'll try to do better in the near future. Next chapter will have Temari in it for you Temari fans. **


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